Coin of the Realm
by glitterburn
Summary: John discovers the history behind Balthazar's favourite coin...


**Coin of the Realm**

The coin was as much a part of Balthazar as was the stink of sulphur that heralded his arrival. John was never certain which attribute irritated him most. The smell – well, his apartment had enough windows that he could open if it got too much - and really, when you'd been hunting demons for as long as he had then you kind of got used to the stench.

The coin was a different matter. Balthazar was always handling it, flipping it into the air and then catching it again as if he were playing an endless game of heads or tails. When he took John to bed, Balthazar would drop the coin, a flash of silver, onto John's chest; or would slide it over his hip. Sometimes he would set it on its edge and roll it across John's belly, pressing down harder with each circle described around his navel. He would watch John's expression change as the worn ragged edges of the coin began to dent his skin, and he would smile.

But mostly, Balthazar would stand perfectly still before he entered a room, killing time before John noticed his presence, and he would roll the coin along the back of his knuckles in a complex weaving that looked far too simple.

John had tried to replicate the gesture, once. The coin he'd taken from his pocket had fallen to the floor and vanished beneath the refrigerator. He hadn't bothered to try again. Instead he found himself wondering where Balthazar's coin had come from, and in whose name it had been minted.

"What is that?" he asked one day. He was leaning against his desk, watching Balthazar sit on its edge; watching the silver roll through elegant, tanned fingers.

Balthazar twisted his hand so that he held up the coin to catch the light. "It determines the course of the future."

"Whose future?"

Balthazar looked at him for a long moment. "Yours. Mine. Everybody's."

"Yeah? And how is that supposed to happen?"

"I flip it." Balthazar demonstrated. "Heads you live, tails you die."

John snorted. "I'm amazed you didn't weight it so that it always favours tails."

"What's the fun in that?" Balthazar sounded genuinely surprised. "Besides," he added, "sometimes I ignore the decision. There are some people I'd prefer to be kept alive… for now."

John didn't need to guess that he was one of them. He took it for granted. Balthazar wanted to take him to Hell on his terms, not on the toss of a coin and the whim of Fate. He knew that Balthazar wanted to claim him in Hell, and he also knew that Lucifer would never allow it. Not when Lucifer wanted John for himself.

"So what if I stole your coin?" John asked. "What then?"

Balthazar flipped it again. "I'd get a new one."

"Where from?"

"Right here in this plane." Balthazar spun the coin on the desk. It shot little sparks of reflected light at them both. With each revolution, John could see the images stamped on the surface flick from light to dark. The coin moved too quickly for him to determine who or what they were.

"It's not Hellish money, if that's what you're thinking," Balthazar continued. "It has no powers, save for the power of purchase. And that was determined by man, not by me. You know, they do say that money isn't inherently evil…"

John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, drawing back from the desk. "Yeah. Man makes it so. I heard that. I don't agree. I've seen enough cursed objects; why shouldn't your coin be cursed, too?"

"I can assure you that it isn't."

"Then where did it come from?"

Balthazar smiled. "You think it's a piece of silver from a certain suicide, don't you? From the thirty coins paid to the most famous suicide in the Bible. What is it about you lot, anyway? Hanging, overdoses, slitting your wrists… I never did understand that."

John almost snarled. "That's because demons steal hope from the living. It's because of you that others can't go on. You damn well know that, Balthazar."

"You flatter me." Balthazar looked at him quizzically. "Was it because of me that you couldn't go on?"

John turned away in disgust. "Now you flatter yourself."

"I try." He smiled, waiting for John to turn back, knowing that the lure of the coin and the question unanswered would prove too much temptation.

John took out a cigarette and lit it. He glanced sidelong at Balthazar, watching the smoke haze the glint of the silver coin. "So?"

"So what's the point of suicide, apart from making my job easier? Judas was cursed as soon as he betrayed the Son of Him Upstairs. No point in making a bad situation worse by killing yourself. Two negatives don't make a positive, no matter what the law of mathematics says."

John shook his head and spoke around his cigarette. "That's not what I meant. Just tell me. Is it his? Did it belong to Judas?"

Balthazar caught the coin and held it up, motionless, for a moment. "No."

"Then who…?"

Balthazar began to flip the coin again. Up. Down. Up. Down.

John reached out and snatched the coin from mid-air; his fingers closing around it to form a fist only scant inches from Balthazar's face.

"Take a look for yourself," said Balthazar mildly.

"Thank you. I will."

John retreated a safe distance and opened his fist. The coin lay in his palm, strangely cold despite all its handling. Against his skin, it looked dull and tarnished. On the face of it was the impression of two heads facing one another, with an inscription around the side and a laurel wreath below.

He tilted his hand enough to turn the coin. There was only one head on this side, and the inscription was larger. The surface was much brighter, gleaming with heat. John raised the coin to see it more clearly, and then he read the inscription: CONSTANTINVS MAX AVG.

"What the hell -"

Balthazar sauntered over and plucked the coin from his hand. "Don't you think it's ironic that you share your name with that of the first Christian emperor? I think it's utterly delicious."

He flipped the coin once, and then rolled it along the back of his knuckles. He smiled. "If I can't truly have you, not even in Hell, then at least I have some small token of your namesake to toy with, Constantine."

**end**


End file.
